“You want to go back to the club and catch another drink?”

  Seve shook his head. “No.” His eyes were clouded as they often were after orgasm. He didn’t look like he was concentrating on much, but his hand ran along my forearm, stroking me.

  “So I’d better get back,” I said. I was just trying to find something to say. My legs ached from holding my position earlier, but the rest of my body was strangely restless too. Seve sighed aloud. That was all, but it triggered me somehow. “What else should I do?” I snapped. “You bitch about me upping and leaving all the time, but what the fuck else is there to do?”

  He stared at me, startled. His dark pupils were like liquid fire in the grey shadow of the pavilion. To my weary astonishment, I felt my cock stir in weary response to my desire to see that flame lit again.

  “You’re the one—”

  “It’s safest to be the first to say it, right?” I couldn’t believe the bitterness in the words spilling out of me. “Before you tell me to piss off. Because that’s all this is, isn’t it? A fuck. I know that, I’m not stupid. I know the rules. And believe me, I’m the first to enjoy it. But that doesn’t mean you get all of me.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Seve’s voice was low and angry. “What rules?”

  “You know.” I wished I’d never started this, but the devil was in me tonight. “The rules that say we’re free to fuck anyone—no strings. This is just fun. You said it yourself once—what we want is no interference, no one running our life for us.”

  Seve frowned. “I don’t remember. I’m not sure I meant….”

  “Doesn’t matter, it’s true.”

  He bit his lip. Saliva on the plump flesh glinted, a reflection of moonlight. “I never said it was anything different, Max.”

  “No, I know.” My turn to sigh. And I didn’t ask, either.

  “I don’t have a lot of time for myself, so I want to make the most of it. I am always busy with work.” He didn’t sound like he knew what to say next. I wondered if he had his staff give other exes the brush-off or if he just didn’t turn up one night. Like I realised I’d been dreading ever since the first night I met him. “The family has expectations.”

  “Yeah, I know all about them.” I snorted.

  Seemed that was a trigger for him too. “What does that mean? You don’t know anything about my business.”

  I really, really wanted to snap back. I opened my mouth but closed it again quickly. Some kind of self-preservation had kicked in at last.

  “Or do you?” He grabbed my arm and turned me to face him. “Is that your problem?”

  “Let go of me.”

  “I’m not the only one keeping to myself, am I?”

  “What the fuck? Just let go, let it drop.”

  He did neither. “What do you know? What aren’t you saying?”

  His grip was very tight, and I didn’t know whether the swell inside my gut was anger or fear. “I know very well what your family is capable of.”

  He let go so suddenly I stumbled on the slippery grass. “Is that why you hold back?”

  “Hold back? Shit, how can you say—”

  “Not in sex,” he growled. “Dammit, you don’t listen properly, do you? I mean, you hold back yourself. Something’s stopping us–”

  “Stopping us, what?”

  He shook his head as if irritated he’d spoken out. “Just tell me what it is you think you know about my family. You cannot accuse us of something and not tell me what it is.”

  “And you can stop with the injured innocence. You’re part of the management, remember? You’re proud of being family.”

  He flushed. “Yes, I am. We have been successful. We are successful. I know people are jealous of that.”

  “I’m not jealous. I’ve got no stake in that.”

  “So what the hell’s the matter? Tell me!”

  “There’s no point. That’s not what we’re about.” I blamed Louis for disturbing my equilibrium tonight; blamed him and Jack for being a sickeningly happy couple; blamed Seve for making me want him. Blamed everyone but myself, like I should have done.

  “So what are we about?” Seve said. His voice had lowered again and his eyes had narrowed.

  “I’m going,” I said. “I’ll walk from here.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous—”

  “Don’t tell me what to be or not!” I snapped. I turned and strode away.

  He didn’t follow.

  I walked quickly but distractedly, thinking how I’d been a brat and an arse, and that was surely the end of me and Seve. My belly hurt and my eyes felt oddly sore. I probably shouldn’t have taken the shortcut across the back of the county hospital, though it was a shorter route by a few minutes and there were usually people about, whatever the hour. But tonight was different.

  As I rounded a corner of the perimeter fence, they stepped out from the shadows behind the huge recycling bins. Three of them, taller than me, twice as broad, in casual but dark-coloured gear and wearing shades at night, which was a strong indication of the IQ accompanying them.

  For a sudden shocking moment, I thought I recognised one of them, a man standing in shadow at the back of the group. Something about the set of his shoulders and his stocky build. But the context was all wrong. I couldn’t recall seeing him in the Brighton streets—the strongest memory was a flash of a miserable life that I thought was long past. Nausea prickled the back of my throat at the thought. How could it be him? I was terrified at how easily it could all come rushing back, the fear and the anger that I’d tried so hard to keep at bay.

  But I didn’t have time to swap reminiscences. They were tough and they moved quickly for such big men. After a few ineffectual punches from me, they sideswiped me and I fell to my knees. A kick to my stomach and I doubled over, retching and clutching my guts, feeling as if they’d fall out without protection. I wondered how small I could roll myself to keep away from the kicks and the fists. I wondered if there was going to be any weapon involved. Another kick to my thigh laid me flat out on my face, and I yelled out that time. Pointless, really. I knew no one was coming to help me.

  One of them—one I didn’t recognise—knelt beside me. Without warning, he smashed his oversized fist into my throat. My breath burst out of me in shock and pain. “Back off,” he grunted in my ear.

  Back off from what? I only had a couple of quid in my wallet. I didn’t have a jacket, and I’d never had any jewellery. What the fuck did they want?

  “Keep your fuckin’ fag hands off Mr Nuñez.” Another boot caught my ribs, landing squarely on a patch that was already bruised beyond sensation.

  “Who says so?” I croaked.

  “He does,” the man said with a horrible barking laugh. He stood, took a step back, and I winced in anticipation for the next blow.

  But it didn’t land. They just turned and left me there. I heard their heavy receding footsteps on the cold ground, the vibration spiking through my cheek. Curled up in agony, my face in the dirt of a day’s pedestrian traffic, I wondered what the fuck was going on. If Seve wanted to dump me, why didn’t he just tell me he was tired of my skinny arse—or just not turn up one night? Did I really need the message imprinted on my ribcage?

  Why did he do this?

  And my God, did Louis make a fuss!

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d broken a few bones before now, and the bruises weren’t going to make or break any career aspirations as an underwear model. After a painful examination by Louis’ GP, I quietly neglected to follow up on the X-ray appointment, in case they asked too many questions about my fall down the stairs. After all, the doctor reckoned most of the damage was on the surface, and I’d be on my way back to normal after a few days of rest and copious painkillers.

  Yeah, most of that happened. But not the “back to normal” bit.

  It probably took me two days before I could roll myself easily out of bed, and another couple before I could jog up and down stairs and do all the other things you take for granted when you’re fit and able. I had bruises on bruises. I reckoned a rib might have been cracked, but I assured Louis it was just a wrenched muscle. It’d heal on its own, and I didn’t want any further fuss. The site said they’d keep my job for a while, but they needed me back sooner rather than later. I was keen to get back there too. I hadn’t been with them long enough to have any entitlement to sick pay.

  I moved about carefully and I slept a lot. I also brooded a lot. My nights were anguished and my dreams were wet and frustrated. When I woke in the dark with a heavy sweat on, there was no comfort in the memories of that cruel beating. I just wished I knew what the fuck was going on.

  I really didn’t want to drop Jack and Louis off at Compulsion that next Saturday even though it was the trade-off for borrowing Jack’s car to go to one of the three Vs’ house for the evening. The girls had some problem with the landlord’s plumbing, and I’d offered to help them out.

  “It’s on your way,” Louis wheedled. “I can’t walk far in these trousers.”

  “Can’t you get a cab?”

  “Why are you so upset about it?”

  “I’m not fucking upset,” I growled.

  “Why are you growling, then?”

  So the argument was lost and I drove them to the end of the street. Louis tumbled out of the car, resplendent in black satin sprayed-on trousers and a shirt that barely covered his nipples. He sashayed up the steps to the entrance, waving to a couple of friends arriving at the same time. Jack slid out of his seat to join him. I risked a glimpse at the club, weighing up the door monuments—two of them again, wide guys in heavy black suits and the ridiculous shades. I let out a breath. Not the heavies who’d attacked me. Not the man I thought I’d recognised. How could I have recognised someone I hadn’t seen for a bloody long time, from another city, from miles away—from another life, for God’s sake? I’d been hallucinating from fear.

  I felt the pain returning, but it wasn’t just my still aching ribs. The sight of the club disturbed me. The pavement where Seve had stood, leaning insouciantly against his car. The memories of other times he’d driven us away from there, of other nights he’d been waiting for me. Memories of the dark yard, the stuffy storeroom. What was worse, something else was aching, and it disgusted me. I started to pull away from the curb.

  “Max!” The call was peremptory, and I knew it was Seve.

  Fuck. My heart raced and my cock throbbed. I cursed every nerve I possessed for betraying me like this. Why the hell was he here again? Why did he think it necessary to waste further time humiliating me? Most of all, I wondered why I couldn’t have driven away that little bit faster. God knows, Jack’s car had the acceleration. If I hadn’t given way to the stupid memories….

  Meanwhile, Seve strode quickly and easily to the car and placed his hand on the half-open window. I didn’t think I should close it quickly and leave him fingerless, so I stopped the car. I should never have thought about his fingers at all… his fingers on my hips… his fingers at my mouth… his fingers sliding into me. I missed him. And badly.

  “Max, where have you been?”

  “I got your message,” I said sharply. I could smell the tang of his cologne in my nostrils. My body reacted of its own free will, and I was immediately fiercely aroused. I hoped to God nothing gave me away. It was suddenly very important to me that Seve didn’t realise the effect he still had on me. “There’s nothing more to say, is there?”

  “Message?”

  “The postcard with a punch.” I almost spat the words. “The warning off. Couldn’t you have just left me a note behind the bar? Or tucked a tenner in my jeans and dispatched me back home?”

  “What are you talking about?” His eyes darkened with even more anger. “A warning about what, Max? Who brought you a warning?”

  It was a good act, I had to admit. “Three lumps of cretinous concrete like those heavies up there. Told me to keep my fuckin’ fag hands off you. And as I don’t welcome any more bruises and battered bones, I’m taking it to heart.”

  “They beat you?”

  The tightness of his tone jarred on my nerves. No point in keeping up the charade, was there? I knew I wanted out of here. And fast. “I remember every kick,” I said. “A few months ago I might have given them a better run for their money, but I’m obviously out of practice at taking on three guys twice my size. I don’t need that kind of trouble, Seve, not even for you. There are safer men to see.”

  I was genuinely angry, but I knew my words were largely bravado. I didn’t want other men, did I? He must have known that. And he knew I didn’t want “safer,” or I’d never have come anywhere near here again.

  “I’ll take care of it, Max.”

  “Sure you will.” I suddenly felt more grief than anger. His hand was too close to mine, and his breath curled the hair on my neck. His existence made me vibrate with desire. Fuck, no. “Doesn’t matter to me. I’ve got to go.”

  “You always go!” he growled. “You fuck and run—that’s what I tried to tell you the other night. Why won’t you give me time to sort things out? Tell me what’s pissed you off. Let’s talk about it.”

  I stared at him, startled. “But this is what you want, isn’t it? You want to move on. It’s okay by me—”

  “Is it?”

  I gaped. I wanted to say, Yes, of course. it’s just fun, just fucking. “No,” I said. “It’s not.” I didn’t know what to make of this. He seemed genuinely disturbed and angry about the attack on me, but I didn’t know what else was going on in his handsome well-groomed head. I put my hand to his to push it away.

  He grabbed me instead. “So come with me, Max. I want you, you know that. I told you I’ll take care of what’s happened. I’ll make things good again.”

  No! His hand was strong over mine. He leaned in the window and his mouth ghosted its words at my ear. Half of my mind begged me to listen to him. Every instinctive inch of me tried to squeeze its way out from under the seat belt and flow against him. His lean, sensual body and his rich, acquisitive lips….

  The other half of my mind—the bloody-minded, masochistic half—won out. “Get lost,” I said coldly. “No one needs a fuck that badly. Or another beating. Find someone your family does approve of, if that’s your problem.”

  I wrenched my arm away and he stumbled back. I saw shock flash brightly in his gorgeous eyes. Then I slammed my foot on the accelerator and the car lurched away from the curb. Difficult to concentrate on the wheel when your cock is hammering to be let out of your too-tight jeans and there’s a strange, painful tightness in your throat.

  I didn’t do that corny old thing of looking back in the mirror as I drove off.

  No, I didn’t.

  So maybe that was going to be the last time I saw him.

  I still didn’t.

  Chapter 12

  Louis had another of those looks on his face. When I was at my meanest, I wondered how the hell Jack coped with the exhausting range of emotions that Louis inflicted on us all. Then I’d watch Jack’s calm, possessive hand on Louis’ arse and I knew they had it sorted out between them. I was the one who had nothing sorted out with anyone, and I was the one who really needed help. It was long overdue.

  “Tell us, Max,” Jack said. They’d pulled the couch in the living room over to a couple of feet from the armchair, effectively forcing me to talk to them. It was late in the evening and I’d sat curled up in that chair ever since supper, with the remote control on my lap but the TV screen still blank and my book closed on the floor beside the chair, waiting hopelessly for attention.

  “What do you mean?”

  Louis opened his mouth to add his opinion, but Jack held up a hand to hush him. “Tell us what happened while you were away. There’s something going on that I don’t understand, and I suspect it’s to do with that missing time.”

  I tried to shake my head but it just hurt. Everything hurt.

  “I don’t see how we can help you, Max, if you don’t tell us everything.”

  “Don’t need—”

  “Yes, you do,” Jack replied firmly. He had a full cup of steaming fruit tea in his other hand. He was in for the duration. Bloody friends. “You’ve been restless and low since you got beaten up.”

  “Hey, that’s to be expec—”

  “But it’s not only to do with that. You haven’t been out on your own since the attack, so you’re obviously not seeing Seve anymore. You work extra shifts at work, you’re knackered and hardly eating.”

  “You sleep badly too,” Louis added. “You shout out in the night.”

  Fuck. “I’m sorry, guys….”

  “No problem,” Louis said, and he really did sound like it wasn’t. “Just saying.”

  “I think it’s depression,” Jack said gently.

  Something twisted in my chest. “That’s crap.” My voice was thin. I looked at their concerned faces, and in my mind, something shook loose. Feelings that I’d kept well buried began to stir. This time I wasn’t sure I could keep the lid on them. My gut ached like those feelings were bleeding emotion inside my body.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Jack continued. “But I think it has roots back in the time before you met Seve, before the attack, before you came back here–”

  “To hide,” I said quickly, too loudly. They both stopped talking and stared at me. “That’s what it was, you know. I’m a coward and a fuckup and I ran back here with my tail between my legs.”

  “Max—”

  “I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” I continued, speaking swiftly to make sure they didn’t stop me, didn’t allow me the benefit of the doubt any longer. “I left Uni because I couldn’t cope with it. I liked drinking and fucking and taking plenty of drugs, and I thought it’d go on for ever. But I ran out of money and the course was coming to an end. I knew I’d be thrown out and all the friends I had were getting truly sick of me fucking them over—”